


Don't Pay No Mind To The Demons / They Fill You With Fear

by M3m3mnt0M0r1



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Askr (Fire Emblem Heroes) (mentioned), Camilla Deserved Better, Camilla Needs a Hug, Camilla-centric, Character Study, Ektrina | Katerina (mentioned), Elise (Fire Emblem) (mentioned) - Freeform, Garon (Fire Emblem) (mentioned), Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Leon | Leo (Fire Emblem: Fates) (mentioned), Marx | Xander (mentioned) - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M3m3mnt0M0r1/pseuds/M3m3mnt0M0r1
Summary: Princess Camilla of Nohr was a facade. She was smoke and mirrors, a trick of the light. Princess Camilla wasn't real. Frightened, bastard Camilla was. And only one was meant to see the light of day. Only one was accepted--welcomed and beloved even-- across the board.





	Don't Pay No Mind To The Demons / They Fill You With Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on my fic! Title taken from "Home" by Phillip Phillips. Hope you enjoy! Check the tags; some content may be triggering.

Camilla was lonely. The princess hadn't seen her home in--according to the tally marks on her wall-- sixty-seven days. Her home wasn't Nohr; the kingdom could rot in hell, among the dragon responsible for its turmoil. No, her home was the perso--people-- she left behind.

Her home consisted of people. None of which had made themselves known to her in Askr. But that was no matter. Camilla had been alone before, and she would be alone again, it seemed. Before Azura came along, she was alone the vast majority of her day.

Xander would be in his kingly training from sunrise to set, while the sole princess would be left to her own devices. Of course she'd have lessons: how to speak eloquently, how to curtsy-- royal protocol. Nothing truly important. Were she born a peasant, she could do without them. 

Yet, as her father claimed, it was "imperative" that she learn how to handle herself. He always used the word "handle". As if she were a beast that needed to be tamed. Perhaps Garon thought --since Camilla came into the world bloodied and screaming-- that was how she would live. Perhaps he thought the violence she had seen from such a young age had warped her brain. 

After all, monsters beget monsters

***

When Xander was only two, Arete had come into the picture. The foreign woman had brought peace to the mourning king; Queen Katerina had passed months before, and Arete's singing was a soothing balm to his woes.

Yet the woman was not chaste; she had a daughter, a blue-haired twig of a girl who bit her hair when nervous. (Of course, Camilla wasn't born yet, but she would see this behavior early in her childhood.)

Regardless, Garon had gained a wife and a daughter, and all was well and good. At least, until Camilla was born.

A woman, noble, but in a lower house, had seduced the king on a bone-chilling day in February. A blink here, a smile there-- she had gotten pregnant just hours later. The Woman stroked her belly lovingly--she would have this child. She would be queen. 

Nine months after the encounter, Camilla was born. Her birthday, November 30th, was the saddest day of the Woman's life. She had gone through the trouble of seducing the king-- of making herself attractive to the married man (a sanctity that would have never been broken had she been raised differently)-- and yet she had birthed a girl. A worthless, wretched daughter. The Woman wept for the life she could have had. The power she could have held.

After she had sobbed long enough, the Woman held her head high. If she had been cursed with a daughter, so be it. Her daughter would be perfect. Her daughter would be ruthless. The first woman-king of Nohr.

And Camilla had been raised as such. The Woman, firm and stern, had her trained as the boy she should have been. Camilla was educated in the humanities, taught the ways of weaponry, and excelled in etiquette. 

She favored the axe, and before the age of ten could swing it while riding a wyvern.

Yet it wasn't enough. Garon still loved Arete, and Xander would still be the heir to the throne. The Woman forced Camilla to train harder, and imposed new rules on her: no chatting with the enemy (Azura), limited time with the other enemy (Xander), and suck up to the king. 

They were Draconian, but efficient. The king was recognizing Camilla more than ever. He acknowledged her at every meal, and often presented her gifts.

The Woman tasted the sweetness of her victories, and wanted more. Camilla would be the heir. She would be the queen.

As Camilla became the perfect child, any semblance of a personality receded into her shell. She never prompted conversation, never developed any hobbies, and never made any friends. Well, except for Azura. 

Whenever the Woman slept, Camilla would sneak past her guards and into her stepsister's room. The two had known of each other since birth, yet hadn't spoken to each other one-on-one. So when Camilla first felt the cold hand of loneliness, she made a plan. She would befriend Azura, whether the Woman liked it or not.

The opportunity arose on the night of March 4th, a day after Azura's ninth birthday. Seven year old Camilla waited till her candle burned out. Then, she made her move. Creeping by her guards was easy enough--if she were quiet and didn't disturb their card game, they wouldn't notice the princess. 

Her feet pitter-pattered against the cold stone, a lone echo in the hall. The real challenge would be finding Azura's room. Camilla knew it would be somewhere in the same hall--she had seen maids leave her room and knock on another, entering when the elder princess's thin voice granted them permission.

She just had to remember which door it was.

Camilla hid behind a column, drawing in small, silent breaths. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to recall a memory. One maid exited Camilla's room. She turned left, then strode past a few doors--how many? She thought on it. One, two, three--Azura's room was four doors down!

A smile spread across her lips. Camilla almost let out a joyous cry, yet held back at the last second. That would wake the Woman up. Instead, she took short, stilted steps to the fourth door. 

Looking both ways--making sure the hallway was clear-- Camilla clicked her knuckles in the door, careful to make the sound audible, but not loud enough to disturb the guards.

She held her breath. Thirty seconds passed. A minute. Her face fell. Azura was probably sleeping. Or, Azura knew exactly who was there, and actively chose not to open the door.

What she didn't expect was for Arete, the crowned Queen of Nohr, to open the door.

Camilla, shocked beyond all comprehension, let her jaw drop.

The queen looked down on the young child, her golden eyes softening, and spoke, "Young one, what brings you to my door?"

Camilla flushed. This was the Queen's bedroom. Not Azura's. Thoughts, slow as slugs, drudged through her mind. Azura was only in the Queen's room to see her mother. She didn't sleep there. She woke up the Queen of Nohr.

Shaking back into her senses, Camilla gave a frantic curtsy and let her plan flow free from her lips, "I'msosorryMissAreteIjustwantedtotalktoyourdaughterAzura," Arete gave a sad smile. "Pleasedon'twaketheWoman," The smile turned into a frown. "IswearI'lldoanythingjustpleasedon't," Arete's eyebrows pulled together. Pity graced her complexion. "Icanleaverightnowifyou'dlikeIjustwantedtotalktoAzuraI'msorr--"

The Queen raised a hand, ending Camilla's babbling.

"Camilla." The princess froze. What would the Queen say? Would she laugh in the girl's face? Let the Woman know everything? 

"Yes?" Her dazed voice broke the tense silence.

"Come in." The Queen backed away from the entrance, and beckoned the frightened girl in. Upon seeing Camilla's expression, her voice lost some of its bite. "Please, don't be afraid."

Camilla swallowed, then strode into the lion's den. Three steps in, the princess could see a four poster bed, with velvet curtains. A sharp click alerted her that Arete had closed and locked the door.

The princess spun around. The Queen froze. Seeing Camilla's widened eyes and down-turned lips, she put her hands up. 

"I'm not going to hurt you, Camilla. I won't tell your mother--" Camilla flinched. 

"The Woman is not my mother." Arete's feline eyes studied the girl's face.

The Queen's mouth made an 'o' of surprise. "I won't tell the Woman," Camilla nodded, satisfied. "You came to see Azura. In fact, she's right there." Arete let her eyes drift over Camilla's shoulder. She gestured with her sharp chin. 

Camilla twirled to see the elder princess sitting on the Queen's bed, legs dangling off the side, fists rubbing her eyes, "Mama, whazz goin' on?"

The intruder pivoted to observe the Queen's expression. Her lips were pursed, but her eyes shone playfully. "You have a visitor, sweetie."

Once more, Camilla spun. Azura's half-lidded eyes blinked and opened to their normal extent. "Really?" She stared at Camilla as if seeing her for the first time. She hopped off the bed, and walked up to the frozen princess. She whispered, "Are you real?"

Camilla giggled. "Are you real?" 

Azura put her hand under her chin, the thumb perpendicular to her fingers. "I don't know. I think I am."

Arete paced over to the two, her slender form moving like water. She smirked, thin lips stretched out. "I'm going to rest. You two have fun. However, don't stay up too late. Tomorrow, you have lessons." The Queen collapsed onto the bed, and closed the velvet curtains.

The elder princess spoke first, "Whaddya wanna do?" 

Camilla shrugged, "I don't know. What about you?"

Azura thought for a while. 

"Wanna play chess?"

The two played well into the night, and before the sun rose, Camilla crept back to her bedroom. She had had lots of fun with the foreigner, and hoped she could do it again.

While the Woman had observed that Camilla seemed tired, she made an excuse-- nightmares were easy to fake-- and it appeared believable. Things seemed alright.

They had several more playdates, and then tragedy struck.

The night after their most recent playdate, Arete had passed away with no sign of ill health. 

The king, angry at the neighboring kingdom of Hoshido, whom he suspected played a role, killed its king and took their princess. An eye for an eye. Young Camilla, however, was kept in the dark--Garon wasn't quite ready for the princess to meet her new sibling yet.

Still, Camilla played with Azura. The child had long abandoned her own room, favoring that of her mother's. Azura was much quieter now. When she did speak, her informal dialect was rare-- replaced with cold, detached formality.

And then, once things couldn't get any worse, this shell of Azura was taken away from Camilla too.

Ninja, speaking some language akin to her own, yet different enough to remain incomprehensible, smashed through Azura's window during one of their playdates. Glass shattered all over the floor, spreading in waves.

Azura's eyes widened, and Camilla let out a shriek. The former backed into a corner of the room, glass shards cutting into her feet, and the latter grabbed a nearby sword mounted on the wall. 

Camilla ran toward one of the three attackers, and sliced and hacked her way to the second. 

While she held him off, she heard Azura screech, "Camilla!" 

The native Nohrian ran the would-be assassin through just as the third man grabbed the elder princess and launched out of the window. 

Camilla moved to dive out right after him, but was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. The Woman stood behind her, and leaned down to her ear. 

The girl couldn't stop shivering, despite the warm blood staining her night gown.

"Is this where you've been going off to, you little whore?" The Woman whispered in a saccharine tone. 

The shouts of guards running amok, searching to find the taken princess, nearly overtook the murmured words.

Despite all she had seen tonight, those eleven words were the scariest thing she'd experienced.

Several whippings later, Camilla was back to her shell. Quiet at mealtimes, staring at her plate, playing with her food, but never eating it. 

Unless, of course, someone asked her a question. The mask would fall into place, and she would be the perfect little princess. Yes, the food is quite good. No, I haven't read that book yet. All nonsense. 

Princess Camilla of Nohr was a facade. She was smoke and mirrors, a trick of the light. Princess Camilla wasn't real. Frightened, bastard Camilla was. And only one was meant to see the light of day. Only one was accepted--welcomed and beloved even-- across the board.

Yet when Camilla met Corrin, shortly after Leo had come along, inner Camilla decided to make an appearance. 

This foreign girl had silver hair, with dark red eyes. Camilla stood in the doorway, back straight and chest forward. Garon had insisted she meet her newest sibling, and the Woman, desperate to keep the king's favor, had to agree. 

She was beautiful, albeit a little nervous. That much was clear, as her eyes flicked across the room--and she fidgeted every few seconds. Corrin was dressed in a simple smock. Nice enough to prove nobility, but poor enough quality to indicate a lower house. 

Camilla could recognize that--it was the kind of stuff the Woman wore. Yet the girl's fine features-- upturned eyes, small nose, high cheekbones, and a sharp chin--suggested royalty. Nobility, while certainly appearing more attractive than the masses, usually only checked off one of those four qualities. This girl had all of them.

Eight year old Camilla was astonished. She thought of herself only as a half-princess--the Woman was no queen-- yet this girl was a true princess. 

But where was her smile? Where was her kind, soothing expression?

It reminded her of herself, before she had met Azura. 

A flame sparked into existence then. A desire. A feeling so strong it burned Princess Camilla of Nohr away. Camilla would protect this girl. She would take care of her. And with the gods as her witness, Camilla would never allow the Woman to harm her or her family every again.

It was when Elise arrived, not a year after Leo, that Camilla took action. The Woman had made a nasty comment about the youngest princess, and had given Camilla an order to slaughter the defenseless child. The elder princess had had enough.

It was a quiet spring day, one after the order was given. The sun was yet to rise, but nine year old Camilla was awake. 

Camilla crept to the armory, dodging possible guard locations, and picked out her favorite axe. It was a violet hue similar to that of her hair, and the ornate handle had both a comfortable grip and an allure about it that exceeded description.

Marching up to the Woman's room, quiet as a church mouse, she entered the chamber. She locked the door behind her, and tip-toed over to the bed. Camilla hovered over the sleeping Woman, her axe hidden behind her back. 

The princess gently shook the Woman awake. 

"Camilla? What are you doing here?" The confusion in her voice almost made Camilla hesitate.

Camilla smiled, and she brought the axe over her head with both arms, lodging it in the Woman's throat. Blood splashed onto her clothing.

"That was for Azura." Camilla ripped the axe out with a mucky sound. The Woman choked on her blood, gasping like a fish, desperate for air.

She brought the axe down again. Again. Again. Again again again again again again again again again. The white sheets were more crimson than pearly. The Woman was unrecognizable. Gore clung to Camilla's hair, sprayed over her face. 

Still, she smiled. Ding dong, the witch was dead. She was free. The Woman would never hurt her ever again.

"That was for me."

Why was she shivering? She was safe now. No one else would be harmed. Still, goosebumps coated her arms, and her limbs shook uncontrollably, jerking this way and that.

Camilla walked out of the bedroom, still spasming.

A bath, change of clothes, and axe cleaning later, Camilla visited Princess Corrin. She strode into the girl's bedroom, shoulders back and head held high. 

She was a phoenix. She was a murderer. She was a sister. She was abused.

Camilla was good and bad, dark and night. She was both yin and yang. 

Camilla was her own person.

As her mind ran through titles for herself, she hugged Corrin, rubbing her back, telling her everything would be okay. 

She was Corrin's protector. 

And she had never felt more at home.


End file.
